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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25679494">you started crying, baby, i did too</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/apricae/pseuds/apricae'>apricae</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars: Wild Space - Karen Miller</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>BAMF Bail Organa, Chronic Pain, Headaches &amp; Migraines, Hurt Obi-Wan Kenobi, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, as usual, post-Zigoola</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 05:35:38</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>713</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25679494</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/apricae/pseuds/apricae</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Some damage is permanent.</p><p>Bail helps Obi-Wan cope.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Obi-Wan Kenobi/Bail Organa</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>173</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>you started crying, baby, i did too</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p> </p><p>It flares at night. </p><p>During the day, fed by the Force and focused on duty, Obi-Wan can forget the marks left by the Sith planet. Can hide the scars under clothes and protocol, drown it all out with star charts and battle plans, silence it with the hum of his lightsaber and the thunderous drone of combat. </p><p>It always flares at night. </p><p>It starts with the whisper, every time. The whisper, and the sudden return of the stabbing pain behind his eyes that makes spots dance in his vision.</p><p>
  <em> Die, Jedi, die, Jedi, die. </em>
</p><p>A wave of nauseating vertigo; The pain climbing and climbing as the voice grows louder, backed by white noise, a chiming in his ears. Sometimes he bleeds.</p><p>
  <em> Die, Jedi! </em>
</p><p>He jolts awake in a bed, tasting metal and dirt and acid, staring past the ceiling towards the memory of a nebula-stained sky. The pain is building to crescendo, flames in his veins, ribs aching with each ragged breath, head bursting with it as he screws his eyes shut tight. The holocron a vise upon his mind, burning, the rush of memory, he feels sick–</p><p>A rustle of sheets. A warm, familiar presence. Bail. </p><p>“Hey.” </p><p>Arms around him. He’s shaking, tense and trembling with the effort to stay silent. Bail, sitting up, runs light touches up and down his arm. His breath is warm at Obi-Wan’s shoulder.</p><p>“Hey. You don’t have to talk, heart, but I can tell it’s bad. Do you need the bathroom?”</p><p>Calm, quiet voice. No rush. Slowly, wincing against the grinding ache in his skull, Obi-Wan shakes his head. </p><p>“Okay. Can I keep touching you? I want to hold you, if that’s all right.”</p><p>He nods, once. Bail doesn’t move, but his arms settle a little more around Obi-Wan’s tensed shoulders. He turns his face towards him, finds his nose pressed against Bail’s collarbone, and he sobs, chokes.</p><p>
  <em> Die, Jedi! Die! </em>
</p><p>“Hey, hey. Shh. It’s okay, you can cry.”</p><p>He can’t, it hurts too much to cry, but Bail’s voice rumbles soft and washes over him. So he clings to it, brings his focus on the cadence of his words and that odd, semi-formal accent of his. </p><p>“Keep… Keep talking to me,” he manages to whisper, leaning into Bail’s chest and biting back another sob. His spine feels on fire. “Please.”</p><p>“Of course.” Bail’s warm mouth presses a kiss at his forehead, his hand following it, wiping the sweat from his clammy brow. And then he starts talking; About what he did yesterday and what he will do the next day, then he diverges into something about a new security bill and his latest victory in the Senate securing funding for hospitals. He keeps talking, fingers tracing slow patterns into his skin, a hand running through soft coppery hair.</p><p>Obi-Wan only has half an idea of what he says, but the sound of Bail’s voice lets him slip into the currents of the Force, where the Sith whisper becomes background noise, distant and only half-real. Breathe, even if it hurts. In, out. Bail, distantly, when he cries out – <em> It’ll be over soon. </em></p><p>Time goes by in waves of pain and breath and Bail’s voice.</p><p>“It’s– Passing,” he croaks after what could be minutes or hours, shivering as sweat cools on his skin. The pain is finally letting up, receding like a wave from a shore, leaving only the memory behind in pools.</p><p>“That’s good. How are you feeling? Do you need something?”</p><p>“Just… To sleep, I think.”</p><p>“I can do that,” Bail says, and laughs softly. He rests their foreheads together, and Obi-Wan kisses him, even if his mouth feels dry and metal-sour. Bail smiles into it and eases him down onto the pillow. </p><p>Obi-Wan clings, grabbing fistfuls of Bail’s sleep shirt to tug him close, wanting to bask in his nearness and the heat of his body as the pain fades, leaves him shuddering and hollow. He wants– He wishes he could <em> say– </em></p><p>“Hey. <em> Sleep</em>, Obi-Wan. Wake me up if it gets bad again.” </p><p>His fingers still run through his hair, the soft ceaseless rhythm soothing. Obi-Wan breathes in, breathes out, seeks out Bail’s heartbeat and feels it sync with his own.</p><p>Slow and steady.</p><p>“Thank you, for...”</p><p>“Anything,” Bail says into his hair. “Always.”</p>
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